Runaway
by fictionalcandie
Summary: Someone shows up at James Potter's door in the middle of the night. [Oneshot.]


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the world of Harry Potter. I do not own the Harry Potter books. I do not own Harry Potter.

**Author's Note:**This fic is all about what doesn't get said. It's always amazed me, how many things people can say, just with the way they say them and what they _don't_ say. Boys, especially, enjoy saying things by not saying them. I exploited that shamelessly in this fic. There's also a lot of stuff being said in how and when the characters in this fic use what they _do_ say. Keep in mind as you read that there's more going on, more being said, than just the words I used. I hope it doesn't confuse anyone. It's... kind of an experiment.

**o.o.o.o**

It was a little past eleven. His parents had just gone up to bed -- well, his father had just gone up to bed, his mother had been upstairs reading for about an hour -- when James heard the thud against his front door. It was a dull, meaty sound, and he wouldn't have heard it if he hadn't been passing through the foyer. He stopped and he stared at the large wooden door. He thought perhaps he should get his parents, and was pulling out his wand, when he heard a low groan. Then his doorbell rang.

Perplexed, James went over and peeked through the window by the door. Leaning against the glass very close to him, he saw the exhausted face of his best friend.

"Sirius?" exclaimed James, amazed. He fumbled for the handle and pulled the door open quickly. Grabbing the other boy's arm and slinging it over his shoulder, he really did look exhausted, James helped him into the house. "_Sirius_?"

"Lo, Prongs, mate."

Sirius went sideways past his friend, and keeled over onto the floor. There was another of the dull, meaty thuds and for the first time James noticed that the left side of Sirius's face was black and blue.

"Blimey, Sir--" James crouched quickly and tried to get Sirius into at least a sitting position. It was difficult, as Sirius didn't seem to be all that interested in helping. "What happen-- Sirius?"

The other boy moaned a little. "Not so loud, Prongs," he croaked, lifting a hand like he was going to shield himself from James's voice. His lip was bleeding.

"I'm going to get some ice," James started to say, but stopped as he heard footsteps on the stairs. Sirius moaned again.

"James, what's going on?" demanded Mr. Potter, coming into view, Mrs. Potter behind him. He hesitated when he saw Sirius.

Mrs. Potter gasped and rushed down the last few steps. "Oh, my! Sirius?" she cried, crouching next to James. She looked at her son. "What happened to him?"

"I don't know, Mum." James shrugged, a worried frown on his face because Sirius wasn't reacting well to their voices. "He just... showed up."

Mr. Potter stepped past the little group to closed the front door. He paused, stepped out onto the porch and came back with a trunk and a broom. He frowned. "We'd better get him into the kitchen. Light's better there."

James and Mr. Potter half dragged, half carried Sirius into their kitchen. Mrs. Potter hurried ahead, switching on the lights. She conjured a bag of ice as they eased Sirius into a chair by the table.

He seemed to come around a little when the ice touched the bruised skin of his faced. He blinked and stared around at them. His eyes landed on James's mother and he tried to sit up.

"Oh. Oh. 'M sorry about this, Mrs. Potter," he said quickly, in a slightly slurred voice. His eyes crossed and he swayed a bit. James and Mr. Potter's hands were on his shoulders to steady him.

"Oh, Sirius," sighed Mrs. Potter, a touch of exasperation in her tone. "What on earth happened to you?"

"Wha? Oh." Sirius blinked again, as if he had forgotten that one half of his head was swelling up all at once. "I, uh, hit a... tree... or something. More than once, I think."

Mr. Potter's eyebrows rose. He'd been looking over the rest of Sirius's body with a critical eye, and the bruised face didn't seem to be the worst of the damage. "A tree, huh?"

"Well," Sirius admitted, removing the ice from his face and putting it against his side. He winced. "It might have been a house. Or a barn."

James's parents exchanged sharp glances.

"How could you hit a _barn_?" snapped James, forgetting to keep his voice down. He regretted it as Sirius winced, and added more softly, "Or even a tree, really."

"I was flying. Buildings like to get in my way when I'm doing that," retorted Sirius. He probably intended for his voice to be sharp but it came out a hiss, as Mr. Potter pulled out his wand and touched it to the largest bruise on his face. It started to fade immediately.

"Sirius, why are you here?" asked Mrs. Potter slowly.

Sirius seemed to shrink in on himself. He looked down, into his lap. "I didn't have anywhere else to go."

"What happened, lad?" Mr. Potter regarded him calmly, his voice warm and soothing.

Sirius was silent for a very long time. James began to worry that his response was taking so long because he was making something up -- he hated it when Sirius lied to him. Then Sirius's answer came, so low even James barely caught it.

"I ran away."

He looked up. His eyes were suspiciously glassy but his expression was defiant. "I got tired of living with those... Well, you know what my family's like."

"You ran away?" James gaped at his best friend. Sirius had talked about doing such a thing, but somehow the reality seemed a bit... darker than all of his bold talk. "But, where are you going to _live_?"

Sirius looked up at Mrs. Potter.

"I was hoping I could stay here," he muttered, a hopeful look in his eyes. Then he added hastily, "Just for a bit, of course. Only tonight, maybe."

Mrs. Potter smiled. She seemed to ignore his last two sentences. "Certainly you can stay, Sirius. You ought to bunk in with James tonight, perhaps."

"Right," agreed Mr. Potter. He was smiling, too. "We'll set up one of the spare rooms for you first thing tomorrow, though."

Sirius's face lit up in the biggest grin James had seen on it in a long, long time. He had to grin, too, just because his friend was grinning.

Then Sirius's grin faltered just a bit. "My stuff," he said, and tried to rise. His eyes had crossed again. "I, I think I left it on your porch."

"I brought it in," assured Mr. Potter. He shared a glance with his wife and went on, "It's in the foyer. James can take it up now."

"But, Dad," James hissed, "I need to-- Sirius is--"

There was a firm hand on his shoulder, guiding him toward the door. "I'm not sending you to bed, Jim. You can come right back. But your mother and I would like a word with Sirius alone."

Sirius looked faintly worried. As James reluctantly left the room, he asked, "A word about what?"

"What happened to your face, Sirius?" was Mrs. Potter's quietly spoken question. Sirius's back stiffened and he set his jaw, but didn't answer.

"And the rest of your body, what happened to it?" prompted Mr. Potter.

They were being alarmingly serious about the whole thing. If Sirius hadn't known what they thought his family was capable of, he would have been confused. But as it was he just stiffened further, wincing, and insisted they had nothing to worry about.

"I told you. I hit a tree."

"There, see?" James piped up, from just outside the kitchen. He sounded vaguely annoyed. "Are you done with your 'word alone'? Can I come back in now?"

Sirius chuckled just a little weakly. "Don't bother, Prongs," he said, standing slightly unsteadily. "I think I'll just go upstairs. We can talk up there."

He paused. "If that's all right with your parents, of course."

"No, of course, go up and get some sleep, Sirius. You look like you could use it," Mr. Potter hurried to state, as Mrs. Potter sighed. Sirius gave them a grateful look and limped out to James.

"What's wrong with your leg?" was the first thing James said, once the kitchen door had swung closed again. He'd put an arm around his friend's back and thrown Sirius's arm over his shoulders to help him up the stairs.

"Twisted it, getting back on my broom after that last tree," answered Sirius. His face was fixed in a grimace that didn't even disappear when he sank gratefully onto James's bed. He looked at James then, which he hadn't really done since he'd arrived, and he looked somehow wistful and sly.

He said, "Bloody bitch sometimes, those brooms, eh?"

James had never had trouble with brooms.

"Yeah," murmured James, turning away. "Absolutely awful."

"Prongs?" the other boy's voice called, curious.

James was walking out of the room, but he glanced back and smiled at his best friend. The bruised boy smiled back hesitantly, looking slightly confused. James could tell that Sirius couldn't see him perfectly clearly, because his eyes weren't focusing properly. He didn't like seeing the boy in such a state.

"If I'm gonna sleep on the floor tonight, I need to get some spare blankets," James explained calmly. "Just relax, I'll only be a minute."

Sirius nodded and watched him go. He was back quite quickly, with about three blankets and a quilt in his arms. He smiled at Sirius again, and began arranging them on the floor near the bed.

Pale eyes watched him, and as he was reaching for one of the pillows on the bed, Sirius caught his wrist and mumbled, "I can sleep on the floor, if you want."

"What?" James looked startled that Sirius could even suggest it. His eyes behind his glasses were unbelievably round. "Sirius, don't be stupid."

"No, I should," Sirius insisted, beginning get up from the mattress. "It's your bed."

"Sirius," snapped James, raising his voice before he knew he was doing it. "You're _hurt_. I don't mind sleeping on the floor, I wouldn't have suggested if I did."

Sirius stiffened, and his eyes darkened. He let go of James's wrist. "I'm not _that_ hurt," he retorted. But he lay down and curled up on the bed without further protest.

Sirius was stared at the wall and wouldn't looking at James, yet again. James knew this meant he'd injured on the other boy's immense and fragile pride, but he couldn't find it in himself to let him have his way. Sirius _was _hurt, and James knew he wouldn't be comfortable on the hard floor.

James sighed and punched his pillow a couple of times. He got up and went to turn out the lights, but then decided that maybe he should leave them on. He was finally settling into his little nest of blankets when Sirius whispered softly, "I'm sorry. You're right, James."

This made him smile slightly, and he was glad his head was turned so Sirius couldn't see. He made a little forgiving noise, because he didn't know what was the right thing to say.

"Thank you," Sirius added, so abruptly that James knew he wasn't supposed to have heard it, and it brought a real, faintly smug grin to his face.

It was the kind of statement that every boy knew was to be ignored, if it ever needed actually saying to begin with, so James hunkered down in his blankets and didn't reply. After a minute, he heard Sirius rolling over and knew it was safe to start talking again.

He sat up slowly and addressed the wall, "What really happened to you?" James didn't want to look at Sirius as he asked it. He didn't want to see it if Sirius was going to lie to him.

"I hit a tree," snapped Sirius, and he sounded so annoyed by the question that James knew, with a great rush of relief, that he had to be telling the truth. "I mean, well, sure, I hit a tree more than once. But it was dark and I was flying and it happens."

James turned his head around. He could look at Sirius now; if he started the conversation honestly, he'd finish it that way, too. If it was a conversation with James, anyway.

"Okay. But I don't get how that's possible," James countered, his forehead wrinkled thoughtfully. "You're not that bad a flyer. You're not me, of course, but you're not _that bad_."

Sirius sighed. He whispered after a second, "I was having some trouble seeing."

"Come off it, Sirius. Your night vision's better than mine, even when you're not," James paused and dropped his voice, "even when you're not transformed."

"I was having some trouble seeing," Sirius repeated. He was meeting James's gaze directly, and suddenly James realized how bloodshot the gray eyes were.

"Oh."

James frowned. He repeated, "Oh. Yes. That would also explain why you were flying so low to the ground, I suppose."

"Yeah," muttered Sirius, quirking his lips into a half smile. He looked a little uncomfortable, and James could understand that, because he knew Sirius, and knew that being caught crying would be extremely embarrassing -- admitting to it was probably worse.

James cleared his throat. "My dad'll fix you up in the morning," he declared, changing the subject slightly. "And Mum'll probably make so much food even _you'll _have trouble eating it all."

"Yeah," muttered Sirius. He lay back down, stretching out all over the bed this time. He graced the ceiling with a smile. He sounded comfortable when he said, "Good thing, having a Healer in the family."

James lay down, too. He let himself relax, because he was sure at last that Sirius was going to be all right. "Well, yeah," he agreed. "You get used to it."

Sirius chuckled and it was barely forced at all.

"G'night, Prongs."

"Night, Padfoot."

James waited until Sirius's breathing evened out and he was obviously asleep, before he whispered gently, "I'm glad you came here, Sirius. I always knew you were my brother."

He smiled contentedly into the quiet room and drifted off to join his friend in sleep.


End file.
